Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Kosovo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Bobby Byrd to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
the Bar-Kays,
Jeff Mills,
Talk Talk,
This Heat,
Guru Guru,
Lou Reed,
Amazonics,
UT,
The Doobie Brothers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Half Japanese,
Delta 5,
Jacob Miller,
The Divine Comedy,
X-101,
D'Angelo,
Smog,
Theoretical Girls,
Barry Ungar,
The Misunderstood,
Maurizio,
Erasure,
Charles Mingus,
Andrew Hill,
Magazine,
Alton Ellis,
Mantronix,
Judy Mowatt,
The Motions,
Index,
Pulsallama,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Depeche Mode,
The Moody Blues,
China Crisis,
Sun City Girls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
Shoche,
Inner City,
The Mummies,
JFA,
Harry Pussy,
H. Thieme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Can,
Michelle Simonal,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gun Club,
Underground Resistance,
Neil Young,
Infiniti,
Ultravox,
The Blackbyrds,
Soul Sonic Force,
Darondo,
Monks,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.